


Empty Your Sadness (on My Bedroom Floor)

by Mireille



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Lack of Communication, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:20:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23360827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: It takes a long time for Clint and Rhodey to get things right. But then, so much else is wrong during those years.(Clint and Rhodey's relationship from just after "The Avengers" to post-Endgame, in snapshots.)
Relationships: Clint Barton & Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Clint Barton/Laura Barton
Comments: 10
Kudos: 13





	1. After the Battle of New York

**Author's Note:**

> I never, ever would have considered this ship (and there are only 7 fics with the tag, so it's not like many other people did, either), but soft_princess sold me on it.

****

"Laura wants to know why you haven't come home yet."

Clint pauses with a spoonful of kung pao shrimp halfway to his plate. It's a "team dinner" night, because Stark wants them to stay a cohesive team. Clint doesn't give a shit what Stark wants. He has a partner and a family and SHIELD. He doesn't need a team. 

But it's also because Stark's college buddy is here, and Clint's willing to play nice. The food is good, anyway, and the guest list is strictly limited. The Avengers, minus Thor who's back in Asgard, and then Stark's friend, who's in the Air Force. 

Clint can handle that. Most of the people here can take him down without breaking a sweat, if--

If it's necessary. 

He's already made Natasha promise she will, if it comes to that. Her voice had been heavy with weariness and her shoulders had slumped, but she'd agreed.

"You know why," he says. "How are they?"

"They're okay." Natasha fills her plate with dumplings--steamed, fried, in multiple shapes with a variety of sauces--before she goes on. "They miss you. They don't understand why you don't call."

"I trust Tony Stark," Clint says. "I trust him with my life. I trust him to sacrifice himself to save innocent people. But I don't trust him not to monitor outgoing communications, and I don't trust that SHIELD can encrypt my call so he can't break it." 

That's a reason, but it's not the reason. If he calls, Laura's going to convince him to come home, and he has nightmares about going home. 

In his dreams, Natasha's solution is only temporary, and he's not actually free of Loki's control. In his dreams, he comes back to himself and discovers he's standing in a pool of his children's blood. 

Loki knows about the farm, about Laura, about the kids... and Clint failed him. His nightmares could easily come true. 

"So take a walk," Nat suggests. Clint finishes overloading his plate and follows her to a corner where a few uncomfortably modern chairs are arranged around a low table. 

He waits until they're seated before he answers. "Not happening. Not yet."

He's on administrative leave from SHIELD; it looks like a punishment but it's really just "get your head together, Barton." It turns out that SHIELD's medical leave policy doesn't cover "recovering from being mind-controlled by an alien magician," at least not yet, so admin leave was a workaround. 

He doesn't have anywhere he has to be, so he stays in the tower, where JARVIS will alert people if he starts acting strange, and the people who can stop him will be able to do it before he can hurt anyone.

Natasha sighs and eats a potsticker. "I told Laura you're in an intense debriefing with SHIELD," she says. "That you were held hostage for a while, but you're okay, and you'll be in touch with her as soon as you can." 

Her eyes narrow. "Don't make a liar out of me. I hate lying to your wife."

"As soon as I can," he promises. As soon as his gut doesn't clench in terror at the thought of going near Laura and the kids. 

He wants to hear her voice. He wants to go home. 

He's just so damned scared. 

Natasha probably knows that, but Clint doesn't want to have to actually tell her, and she's usually okay with not having to hear that kind of emotional stuff. 

She gets it, and that's what counts. 

But it's there, bubbling up inside him, as foul as the fermentation in prison hooch, and so he's really grateful when Stark's friend comes and takes one of the other chairs at their table. 

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asks. He's around Clint's height, and older than him--makes sense, if he and Stark were in college together. Still in good shape, though. Well, military, he'd have to be. 

He's also... well, yes, he's good looking, but Clint knows some stunning people. His wife, for one. Thor. Natasha. Cap. 

James Rhodes isn't that kind of attractive, but Clint likes looking at his face. There's humor in it, and intelligence, and right now, a lot of worry. 

The way his eyes keep tracking Stark's movements, taking in every manic gesture and the rapid cadence of his speech, tells Clint what he's worried about. 

Stark's not okay. None of them are okay, but Stark rode a nuke into a wormhole. He's definitely not okay. 

If Clint's any judge--and who better?--Stark's deeply fucked up, and has decided to explore Scotch and caffeine as a substitute for sleep. Or maybe he has his doctor hook him up with the good stuff. Peasants like Clint subsist on No-Doz washed down with Red Bull, but Tony Stark probably gets designer uppers. 

"I'll trade you," Natasha says to Rhodes. "Keep him company for a while, and I'll keep an eye on Tony." 

"He won't talk to me," Rhodes says. "We've been friends since 1985, and he won't talk to me."

"This one won't talk to you either," she tells him. She gets up, touching Clint lightly on the shoulder. From Natasha, that's a sign of affection, and it warms Clint like a hug. "But since you barely know him, it won't bother you as much." 

She takes her plate and goes off to follow Stark around, and Clint's left looking at Rhodes. 

"I'll leave you alone if you want, Agent Barton," Rhodes says. "I just want a chance to eat my dinner." 

"Please don't," he says. "And it's Clint." 

"Jim," Rhodes says. "But my friends call me Rhodey." 

"Fine by me, Rhodey," Clint says, realizing that Rhodey has been sizing him up, too. 

He'd give anything to know what the verdict was. 

If Clint could let himself call Laura, he'd be telling her about Rhodey tonight. Laura knows his type, because there's a hell of a lot of it walking around SHIELD: older than Clint, military or law enforcement background, competent as hell. She'd tease him for a while, and then remind him that he doesn't have to tell her about every man he's interested in if he doesn't want to. 

Clint knows that, and he doesn't always tell her. It'd be too complicated to tell her sometimes, when it's someone he met on a mission. They have simple rules: no one the other one knows more than to say hello to. Use a condom. Get tested regularly. 

He doesn't have to tell her anything, but he likes to. She's not just his wife, she's his best friend--and damn it, he misses her. 

But he can't talk to Laura, not until he's sure he's not a danger to her, so he takes a deep breath and tries to be, if not the life of the party, at least tolerable company.

****

Tony isn't happy he's here.

That's fine by Rhodey. He's sticking around anyway, because Pepper called him and told him she's worried about Tony. He won't talk to her, but she thought maybe he'd open up to Rhodey. 

Rhodey didn't tell her how drunk they usually have to be before Tony opens up to him. His liver hurts just contemplating it. 

But Tony doesn't tell him to leave, because that would mean there's something he doesn't want Rhodey to see, and _that_ would be the same as admitting that he's not okay. So Rhodey's spending some time in the Tower, with the Avengers. Since he's the DOD liaison to the team, it's technically work-related, and he doesn't have to feel guilty about the time he spends here. 

And even if Tony's not talking about what's eating him--like Rhodey doesn't know, like the whole damn world doesn't know that Tony just did something that would fuck up someone a lot more mentally stable than Anthony Stark--it's good to spend time with him and Pepper, and to get to know the rest of Tony's team. 

Hell, he played poker with Captain America last night. He took pictures and sent them to his dad. 

When Tony goes to his workshop, Rhodey comes along. He knows enough to be appropriately impressed with what Tony's doing, and it's a way for them to spend time together without actually having to talk. 

But today, Tony's stuck at SI, and Rhodey's not going to sit through a board meeting, even if he could.

He decides to check out the gym. He's been lazing around a little the last couple of days, which is fine, but he's not really on vacation. Time to hit the treadmill. 

Hawkeye's there when he gets there, on one of the weight machines. Rhodey knows there's an entire suite of training rooms set up for the team, but he guesses you can't fight holographic aliens all the time. Sometimes you just need a good old-fashioned workout. 

Rhodey picks a treadmill that gives him a decent view of the weight machine. Or, specifically, of Clint Barton's arms, and the cords of muscle that stand out as he goes through his reps. 

Rhodey does like a good pair of arms. He's seized with a completely inappropriate urge to bite down on one of Clint's biceps. 

Or maybe it's not all that inappropriate, since Clint seems to have noticed Rhodey's attention. He lets go of the hand grips on the weight machine, sits up, and gives Rhodey a slow smile. 

It would have fooled him if Rhodey wasn't so used to the way Tony smiles when he's five seconds from cracking. 

Though he wouldn't give Clint five seconds. Maybe three. 

So Rhodey's answering smile is more "friendly" and less "lustful." "Hey, man. How's it going?" 

"Not bad," Clint says, and how is this man a spy, he's such a shitty liar. 

Or maybe he just wants to get caught. 

Rhodey doesn't know him well enough to call him out, so he says, "I was going to grab some lunch after I finish up here. I wouldn't mind some company, Tony's in meetings all day. I mean, if you're free...?" 

If Clint wants to talk, he can talk. If he doesn't, he can eat, and maybe they can flirt. Rhodey's just going to be a little more careful than he would be if Clint's eyes weren't so obviously haunted. 

"Sure. I'm going to get in some target practice before I hit the shower, but I'll meet you in the kitchen in... what, ninety minutes?"

An hour on the treadmill, a shower, ninety minutes works fine. "I was thinking about going out," he says, and Clint's face closes off. 

"That's not really going to work for me," he says.

Rhodey frowns. If it was a matter of time--if Clint had a meeting or something scheduled soon enough that he'd be worried about making it back in time--Rhodey would have expected him to say as much. If he wanted to blow Rhodey off, he'd have done it when Rhodey first made the offer. 

Clint doesn't want to leave the Tower, and Rhodey doesn't want to push. He doesn't have the right to push. Hell, Tony doesn't think Rhodey has the right to push him, and they've known each other most of their lives. This man is a virtual stranger. 

A hot virtual stranger, a funny virtual stranger, a virtual stranger that Rhodey would like to know better, but if he alienates Clint now, that's never going to happen. 

"Delivery?" he suggests, and Clint brightens. 

"We can do that, yeah." 

By the time they've discussed what they're hungry for (Rhodey's aware of an undercurrent to that entire conversation, and thinks Clint is too, but they're both apparently in favor of letting this build slowly) and had JARVIS place an order to arrive in about an hour and a half, Clint's expression looks a lot less haunted.

Maybe he can't help Tony, Rhodey thinks, but at least he did this.

****


	2. House Arrest

****

Clint should have told them one parole officer was enough.

There's someone from the FBI who comes out on a frequent, if irregular, basis, and Clint hates it. It reminds him that he's trapped here. 

He's never felt trapped at the farm before now. He used to imagine how great it would be to retire, to be able to spend time here, playing ball with the kids and giving Lila archery lessons and maybe getting a dog. He and Laura have talked about using the north field to grow hay, a small operation to supply local pet owners. It won't make much money, but it'd be something to keep Clint busy. 

Now the place feels like a prison, which it is, and while he still loves his family, he resents not being able to go into town for a burger, or to see Cooper's school play. 

And he'd have liked it if the Feds kept sending a guy in an ugly suit to check up on him, because he could hate that guy, too. 

But about six months after Clint's house arrest starts, an unfamiliar car pulls up outside the house, and James Rhodes gets out. 

Slowly. Carefully. Hanging onto the car until he's steady on legs encased in some kind of braces. 

But it's Rhodey, and he's walking toward Clint, and shit, Clint's glad to see that. 

He doesn't look unfriendly, either, and Clint's glad to see that, too. 

"Are you even supposed to be here?" Clint asks, tossing his gardening tools aside--he's so bored he's weeding the flowers for Laura--and going to meet him. "I mean, since I'm a criminal?"

Rhodey shakes his head a little. "You're allowed to have contact with anyone who signed," he says, and that reminds Clint that as much as he liked Rhodey back in the day, they're not on the same side anymore. 

"So why would a good little Avenger be coming to visit me?" he asks, letting acid seep into his voice. 

Rhodey sighs. "To check on you. Because I thought you might want to see a friendly face. Because..." He shrugs. "Because I want you to know that this isn't personal."

Clint knew that. It wasn't personal that he couldn't leave the farm until he'd served his sentence. It wasn't personal that his friends were hunted criminals. 

It wasn't personal that he wasn't supposed to have any contact with Nat, even after his sentence was up, unless she'd served hers, which was never going to happen. 

(Like Natasha hadn't found a way to contact him within a month. Infrequently, but he knew she was alive. And Laura had accepted a friend request from a Nathalie Redmond from Bedford, Indiana, who played one of the same Facebook games she did. They sent each other extra energy and power-ups, and Nathalie sometimes "liked" pictures of the kids. That was probably fooling no one, but one, Laura wasn't the one on house arrest, and two, there was no evidence of any contact beyond the likes and the game, so it was hard to prove anything.) 

None of it was personal. It was politics, it was the law, it was just how things were. 

It felt pretty damn personal, though, when the people he'd trusted to have his back decided to stab him in it instead. 

But even if that's a fair and accurate picture of what happened, and Clint's aware that things aren't that simple, Rhodey's paid a higher price than Clint for it. Clint's house arrest will end eventually. Rhodey's going to be wearing those braces--which are definitely not standard VA issue, Clint's guessing Stark is trying to work off some of his guilt--for the rest of his life. 

"Come up on the porch," Clint says. "I'll get us something to drink, and you can tell me all about the big outside world." 

Rhodey starts up the steps, and Clint turns to go inside, figuring maybe he won't want Clint to see him struggling with them. If he is struggling. He's stiff, he's slower than he used to be, but whatever those braces are, they're definitely working for him. But just in case, Clint's giving the man his dignity.

"Iced tea okay, or you want a beer?" Clint asks. 

"Too early for beer," Rhodey says. "Tea's fine."

So Clint fixes two glasses of tea and a plate of supermarket-bakery cookies that are meant for lunchboxes; the kids won't miss a couple. Then he goes back out to play host to one of the people responsible for him getting arrested. 

Who is also a guy Clint had trouble not flirting with, back in the day. 

He never got around to telling Rhodey about the openness of his marriage, and in the end, he's glad about that, because if he had, Clint's pretty sure they'd have been lovers before Berlin. And he's also pretty sure that if Rhodey really thought he was on the right side, he wouldn't have let their relationship change anything. 

So Clint would have been on the opposite side of his lover, which wouldn't have stung as much as being on the opposite side from Natasha, but wouldn't have ended with Rhodey changing his mind. 

And Clint would have had to watch his lover fall out of the sky, instead of just a guy he liked and sometimes engaged in some low-stakes flirting with. 

So really, that worked out well. 

They drink the iced tea, and eat sugar cookies with M&Ms in them, and both of them try to keep the conversation light and neutral. Clint tells stories about his kids; they argue about baseball. Then Rhodey tells a story about a neighbor--he's apparently dividing his time between the Avengers compound and his DC office--who's determined to set him up with her niece. 

"I must be twenty years older than her niece, too," Rhodey says. "What the hell is she thinking?" 

"Some people like older men," Clint says, and realizes that he's shifted into deniable-flirting mode again. 

Rhodey might even have picked up on it; he smiles, and Clint notices that the lines around his eyes are deeper than they were six months ago. Pain? Stress? A little of both? 

God damn it, he doesn't want to feel sorry for Rhodey. Not after everything. 

But then again, Rhodey probably doesn't want Clint to feel sorry for him, either. And Rhodey's here, which is obviously an olive branch. 

Clint's tired of being angry about this. At least, tired of being angry at the world for this. He's angry at himself. He's angry at Ross and the UN. He's still pretty damn angry at Tony, to be honest. 

But there's no reason to be angry at Rhodey, so he smiles back, and tries not to feel disappointed when Rhodey changes the subject to college football.

****

_James Rhodes, what do you think you're doing?_

It's his mother's voice in his head. She's been dead for years, and by the end her voice was just a frail whisper, but this sounds like his mom in about 1975, when she had an uncanny ability to know when her son was getting into trouble. 

But all he's doing is visiting a friend. The FBI agent overseeing Clint's case is willing to let Rhodey's visits count as official check-ins, which means there are fewer FBI agents turning up unannounced at the farm. Still a few, but not as often. And that means something, because one of the first times Rhodey had come out here, Laura had mentioned that the Feds turning up like that scares the kids. 

So that's doing them a small favor, and he likes coming out here, breathing clean air and shooting the shit with Clint and pretending that the Avengers didn't go straight to hell about a year and a half ago. He thinks Clint likes it too. Clint's not a man used to staying in one place; the farm might have been his home, but between SHIELD at first and then the Avengers, he spent a lot of time away from it. 

At least Rhodey's visits are something to break up the sameness of being unable to leave his property. 

And he really does like visiting out here. He likes Laura. He likes the kids. He likes Clint. 

He really likes Clint, and that's a problem. 

He wishes Clint had said something years ago about being married; Rhodey would have backed off. He doesn't usually flirt with married men. 

Clearly, Clint has no problem with flirting, and that's fine. Some people think flirting is cheating; some don't. Obviously Laura doesn't, because some of the things Clint has said in her presence would have crossed a line otherwise, so Rhodey's okay with the flirting. 

He just wouldn't have--

Saying that he fell for Clint in those first weeks after the Battle of New York is probably overstating it. 

Possibly. 

Maybe. 

A little. 

Saying that he's falling for Clint now, a little more with every visit, isn't overstating it at all. 

But Clint's married, and he has a hard time believing that Clint would cheat on Laura. Even if he would, Rhodey won't be the one he cheats with. 

So he drops by a few times each month--at least two, sometimes more--and if Laura asks him, he stays for dinner, enjoys the chance to be there in the middle of a (mostly) happy, (definitely) loving family. 

He enjoys talking to Clint, who has started putting Rhodey to work without once asking him what he can or can't do with the braces. He just says things like, "Gutters need cleaning out. You coming up on the ladder, or holding it for me?" 

Rhodey would risk a ladder with the braces if he had to--they're damned good--but this isn't a "have to" situation, so he says, "Holding the ladder. They're your gutters, you risk your neck," and tries not to envision a world where those are _their_ gutters, on _their_ house. 

Clint has a wife and a family, and Rhodey's not getting in the way of that. He's just going to be Clint's friend, and pretend that all the double entendres and significant looks wash right over him like water off a duck. 

_What do you think you're doing, James?_ his mother's voice asks him again. 

_Breaking my own damn heart_ , he answers her, and pretends he doesn't know that there's an easy solution to all of this.

****


	3. Five Years

****

Clint's so tired he doesn't know what day it is.

He barely knows what month it is. He's damn sure it's winter, though. He's freezing his ass off. 

After this, he promises himself, he'll head south. Plenty of cartels in Mexico to wipe out, and enough sun to soak the chill out of his bones. 

Some of it, anyway. There are places inside him that won't be warm again, not even if he finds himself burning in hell--which seems likely enough, at least if the crap they told him in Sunday school as a kid is true. 

But he's getting too old to stand out here in the middle of a Chicago winter, waiting for the right time to make his move. 

This neighborhood had probably been going to shit two years ago, but after _that day_ , its decline was complete. 

Clint knows the media are coming up with all kinds of names for it, but "that day" is all Clint needs. There's no other day that holds that kind of significance. 

This neighborhood must have been hit hard enough on _that day_ that everyone gave up completely, which is why the crumbling apartment building Clint's waiting outside is being used to house kidnapped kids until the scumbags holding them find buyers.

No one's looking for these kids. Kids who went missing right around that day? Everyone assumes, pretty reasonably, that they've crumbled into dust. Especially if the adults in their lives are too traumatized or too busy being dust themselves to insist that the kids were alive and well after that. 

And even now, business is booming. Law enforcement's stretched too thin. A lot of people have decided this is their chance to live the life of crime that they've always dreamed of, and there are still kids it's easy to snatch. Kids whose parents disappeared, who've been passed from family member to family member. Now everyone's assuming that they're somebody else's problem. 

Some of these kids are on their second or third buyer, as they get too old for the ones with specialized tastes. 

Clint doesn't know what to do with the kids. He'll make an anonymous phone call to the cops once he's on his way out of town and let them figure it out. He does know what to do with the sons of bitches who buy and sell them, though. He's getting good at handling problems like that. 

So good that he can't get the smell of blood out of his nostrils, even in his sleep. 

The bugs he planted let him know that there's a meeting planned, a hand-off of two of the older kids. That's not until midnight, though, and it's still early evening. Clint's just checking on the place, about to head somewhere warmer for an hour or two, when something, a sound from behind him, attracts his attention. 

It's probably just someone who has some semi-legitimate business in this neighborhood, but Clint draws one of his swords, all the same. 

"Easy," Rhodey says, and Clint realizes what pinged him about the noise behind him: it's the quiet sound of Rhodey's braces. He probably wouldn't have noticed it at all if it hadn't been familiar, part of his old life. "I'm not armed."

"Probably should be," Clint says. "Haven't you heard? I'm a very bad man." He's not glad to see Rhodey. But he's wondered, from time to time, if Rhodey had been one of the people who disappeared on that day, and at least he has an answer to that now. 

"I probably should be," Rhodey agrees. "But I don't always have a lot of sense. I mean, I've been friends with Tony since the eighties, I can't claim to have good judgment." 

Clint doesn't laugh at that. Clint hasn't laughed in over two years. But his breath huffs out, a rough, raw sound even to his own ears, in his best attempt at it. "What do you want? To bring me in? I thought Nat would come herself." 

He's been expecting it since the first nest of criminals he took care of. Natasha will find him, and if he won't come quietly, Natasha will take him out. 

Some days, he thinks he'll let himself be taken in. Others, he thinks he'll fight for his life. Deep down, he knows what he'll really do: he'll resist, and she'll stop him, and that'll be the end of it. 

A lot of the time, he wants there to be an end to this. 

"Natasha doesn't know I'm here," Rhodey says. "I'm in town to speak to a survivors group. If you want to come back with me, that's great, you'll be welcome. But I'm not going to make you do anything." 

"Then what do you want?" They're out in the open. They shouldn't be. He doesn't wait for an answer, just leads the way into an alley. 

Rhodey follows without asking why. Clint wouldn't have explained if he had. Rhodey probably would have suggested they call the authorities. Or let the Avengers, whoever's left of them, handle it. 

He knows Natasha's alive. She called him a few times, right after that day. He never answered, though he listened to the voice mails. He's seen the news: Cap's alive; so is Tony, although he all but disappeared after his wedding; Thor's somewhere in Scandinavia with the Asgardians. He's not sure about Bruce. 

But Natasha will be enough, no matter who else has died or retired or drunk themselves into oblivion. She'll either bring him in or kill him.

Rhodey won't kill him, and Clint's not letting Rhodey bring him in, either. 

"What do you want?" Clint asks again once they're out from under the streetlights. If anyone sees them down here, they'll think it's a drug deal, or maybe a more personal transaction. 

"I wanted to see if you were okay," Rhodey says. Clint scoffs, and Rhodey shakes his head. "Physically okay, I mean," he corrects himself. "Of course you're not _okay_. I know about Laura and the kids." He shakes his head, swallowing audibly. "I'm so sorry."

Clint hasn't let himself think their names in weeks. Hearing Laura's name feels like a gut-punch. "Well, I'm fine," he says. "Mission accomplished." 

"Do you need anything? Money? Food? Medicine?"

Clint is standing here in clothes that still have someone else's bloodstains on them, only a few yards away from the next site where he plans to kill several people even worse than he is, dying slowly by degrees because his family was erased from existence. 

He needs a miracle. He needs a bullet to the brain. Rhodey can't provide either of those. 

"I'm good," he says. "Got everything I need." 

"Okay," Rhodey says. He's been good about not making sudden moves, clearly trying not to provoke Clint, but now he lifts one hand in an abortive gesture in Clint's direction. "Let me give you my number in case that changes," he adds. "Not the one you had. One nobody else knows about." 

Clint considers that for a moment. He's not afraid of dying. He's afraid of dying slow, though, and that's always a possibility. He can't walk into a doctor's office with an infected gunshot wound, not and expect to walk out again. 

Rhodey probably wouldn't put him out of his misery, but if he calls and Rhodey answers, Clint's pretty sure Natasha will find him. He's sure she's not as unaware of that phone number as Rhodey thinks.

"Yeah, okay."

"It's in my pocket. Let me get it." He reaches into his pocket, Clint watching him closely. He trusts Rhodey as much as he trusts anybody, but that's not very much, these days. 

But all Rhodey pulls out is a yellow post-it note. He holds it out to Clint, who takes a few steps closer to take it. 

He hasn't been this close to another person he didn't intend to kill in a long time. It's an unsettling feeling. He'd say it leaves him feeling off balance, except that he's always off balance.

But it makes him reach out, and instead of taking the paper, he puts his hand on Rhodey's shoulder. 

Rhodey doesn't flinch, which says a lot for his nerve. Clint may have been his friend once, but today, he's a crazy bastard who needs clean clothes and a shower. 

Rhodey reaches up and covers Clint's hand with his own, which doesn't say a lot for his sense of self-preservation. See also, crazy bastard. 

Clint lets him, though, and then, seized by an impulse, he leans forward and kisses Rhodey. Quickly. Roughly. With no possible justification.

Rhodey doesn't flinch from that, either; he kisses back, which is probably a surprise to both of them. It's definitely a surprise to Clint. Then he squeezes the hand on his shoulder and says, "I thought of something you need, Barton." 

"Yeah?" Clint braces himself for some kind of cheesy answer like "hope" or "human contact."

"Toothpaste," is all Rhodey says, though. "Buy some. Use it." 

It drags another one of those weird not-laughs out of Clint's throat again. He's not sure what Rhodey makes of that, but he doesn't ask. 

Clint abandoned his last bag of gear in Detroit when he needed to make a quick getaway, and went straight to this... well, he calls them missions, but it's not like anyone's assigning him these kills but himself. 

Maybe Rhodey has a point. 

He'll deal with this, and then restock. Clothes--from a thrift store in a shitty neighborhood first, and then, when he's wearing something without bloodstains, from somewhere like Target, until he can wash his own gear--his first-aid kit, basic hygiene supplies. 

But then Mexico, because he's sick of being cold.

****

Rhodey makes his speech at the fundraiser for kids whose parents had been snapped into dust--why they want an Avenger to speak, when the Avengers failed them, he'll never understand--and then heads back to New York.

He doesn't go back to the compound right away. Instead, he gets a hotel room, hoping that letting some time pass will make it easier to hide what he's done from Natasha. 

He's not sure it will. Right now, there's a lot of him that wants to call her and tell her what happened. _Clint's alive. I saw him. That's definitely him wiping out the scum of the earth, down to the big fucking swords._

_Clint needs help. Clint kissed me. I came back the next morning, but he was gone, and I don't know how to find him again._

He'd only found Clint the first time by pure luck. He'd flown into Chicago early, thinking he'd rent a car and drive down to Rantoul to see an old Air Force buddy, who'd been stationed at Chanute for a while and liked the town so much he'd decided to retire there. 

Out of habit, he'd had the compound computer system run a face-recognition match on security cameras. Tony had deactivated Friday when he left the team, but a lot of her capabilities were still there even without the AI.

Natasha probably could have broken into his encrypted partition on the server, but she didn't. They all seemed to have an agreement that they'd leave one another their privacy. Besides, Rhodey helped her enough with her own search for Clint that he had at least a slim chance she wouldn't look into his own activities.

He hadn't expected a match, at least not one that wasn't a false positive, but there he was, at a fast-food restaurant, buying a cardboard cup of coffee. He looked tired and he had a terrible haircut, but it was definitely Clint. 

Rhodey had texted his friend to tell him something had come up and he wasn't going to be able to get out of Chicago, and started searching the neighborhood. 

It's pure luck, and Rhodey isn't sure if that luck is good or bad. 

He doesn't know what he expected. If Clint wants their help, he knows where to find them. He hasn't reached out to them. He's not leaving any more of a trail than he can help. They can figure out where he's been, primarily from the body count, but he doesn't leave clues to where he's going. 

Clint thinks that Rhodey and Natasha want to stop him. And maybe they do, but only because this is going to end up with Clint dead, and neither of them wants that. 

The criminal scum of the world have been empowered by the chaos Thanos created, and Rhodey's surprisingly okay with Clint's method of dealing with them. Desperate times, desperate measures, and Clint's a desperate man if Rhodey's ever seen one. 

And Clint kissed him in a filthy alley, just a few hours before going into a dilapidated apartment building and decapitating five people--four men, one woman--who were selling kids as sex slaves. 

Rhodey's not sure what that means. 

Rhodey's not sure of anything, and hasn't been since Thanos arrived, but he knows it means _something_. 

Mostly that he wishes they'd done this before, even if he'd have hated himself for kissing Clint while Laura was alive. Maybe, if they had, Clint would have come to him, instead of disappearing into bloody vengeance. 

Maybe he would have brought Rhodey along with him, and Rhodey's not completely sure he'd have minded.

It doesn't feel like they're achieving anything here; they're just trying to hold back the tide of chaos, with limited success. Even the people who look like they're managing to live normal lives are so scarred by what's happened that Rhodey's waiting for something to break. For _everyone_ to break. 

Clint just broke a little early. Rhodey always did like an overachiever. 

Rhodey spends a couple of days in the city, looking up old friends because that's what people do these days, clinging to someone you haven't seen in twenty years because all your other friends are dead. Then he calls Pepper, because he hasn't seen his goddaughter in a couple of months and he wants to spoil her. 

He doesn't call Tony, because Tony doesn't answer his phone. Tony's happy enough to have Rhodey visit every now and then, though. As long as Rhodey doesn't talk about the others--well, Nebula's okay, Tony even asks about her, but no one else--they'll drink a couple of beers after Morgan's in bed and talk about the old days at MIT, but Tony doesn't answer his phone and his email has been on auto-respond since before Morgan was born. 

But Rhodey hasn't seen Tony or Morgan or Pepper in a couple of months, and he doesn't want to face Natasha, and if Tony's shut himself away from the world--if he's let his world contract down to one house and one little girl--there are, apparently, worse things he could be doing. 

That's one thing Rhodey's learned over the past couple of years: there's always worse. 

Which makes him wonder what "worse" would look like for Clint. 

No, he can't go back to the compound now, Natasha's getting way too good at reading his moods, and he thinks she's been waiting for the right time to ask him some questions he'd rather never answer. 

Unless the right person asks, and the right person is somewhere out there, trying to drown his grief in blood.

****


	4. Time Heist

****

"I still think you had the right idea," Clint says, leaning in the doorway to Rhodey's room and running a hand through his hair. 

"Which idea was that?" Rhodey's room isn't like Clint's. Clint's was the same one he'd had before everything, but he'd always just used it like a hotel room, somewhere to crash if he needed to be at the compound overnight, not somewhere he lived. 

Rhodey's room used to look like that too; Clint had dropped by on a regular enough basis to know that. But Rhodey's been living here at the compound for years. This is his home now, and it looks it. 

Clint wouldn't know how to turn that bare bedroom into a home if he tried. There was a picture of Laura and the kids on the nightstand when he got there; he'd brought it with him the first time he'd stayed at the compound. 

He couldn't bring himself to destroy it, but it's at the back of the closet now, under some stuff that's not his, junk someone's been storing in an unused room. He can't look at them. 

Or maybe he's afraid that he if he let himself look at the picture, he'd finally collapse under the weight of the past five years. 

He's not big on introspection, these days. Not that he ever really was. 

"Going back in time to kill baby Thanos. It'd save a lot of people a lot of grief." Not just him. Not just his friends. From what he understands, Thanos has been wreaking havoc across the galaxy for a very long time. He's why Nebula is what she is, and Clint's not just talking about the cyborg thing. 

"Except that it won't work," Rhodey says. He's standing by his dresser, putting folded laundry in the drawers. "Tony and Bruce are right. If we went back in time, we'd just create a dimension that branched off from the point where we arrived, and in that dimension, baby Thanos would be dead. In ours, nothing would have changed." 

Yeah. Clint actually gets that. He may not be a genius, but he's read books. "The Trousers of Time," he says, solemnly, and is pleasantly surprised when Rhodey laughs. 

"Okay, Discworld reference, not what I was expecting here." At Clint's raised eyebrow, he says, "I went to MIT. I'm a not-so-secret nerd. I _do_ read books. And I could make the same face at you." 

"You have a lot of time to read on SHIELD surveillance missions," he explains. He's read a little of everything, not just fantasy. Before everyone had an e-reader on their phones, people brought books into surveillance posts and safe houses, and usually left them behind when they were done. 

One long, terrible week when there was a blizzard and the extraction team couldn't get in, Clint even read a shelf full of books with titles like _The Unknown Ajax_ and _Bath Tangle_. 

"Anyway," Rhodey says, "killing baby Thanos won't work." 

"That's the only thing wrong with the plan," Clint says. 

He waits for Rhodey to say something disparaging, to bring up that he knows exactly what Clint spent the past five years doing--not even Cap knows the whole story, only Natasha and Rhodey--and so he's not surprised that Clint's a fan of murdering ugly purple babies. 

All Rhodey says is, "It's a big flaw. Good thing we have a plan B." 

"You getting close to having it ready?" Clint's not much help there. He's got some mechanical skills; he can turn screws and tighten bolts and even solder, if you tell him what needs to be connected where, but he's mostly been practicing with an old bow of his, because he hasn't picked one up since that day. Except for last night, when he took a break to drink beer with a talking raccoon. How is this even real. 

This isn't his part of the show. Clint and the other non-scientists are working on the plans for precisely what they're going to do once the device is working, but he has no idea when that's going to be. 

"We'll probably be ready for a test day after tomorrow." 

"Should we get diapers for Scott?" 

"It's not going to be like that," Rhodey promises, and then frowns at Clint. "You can come in, you know." 

He does. Rhodey waves at his desk. "That's the only chair. I don't have a lot of visitors." 

Clint pulls it out and sits down. He doesn't know why he's here. To tell Rhodey he agreed with the plan, even if it wouldn't work? He could have done that anywhere, at any time. 

He's lying; he knows why he's here. 

"So day after tomorrow, huh?" 

"Probably," Rhodey agrees. "We're having to manufacture some components. They're pretty intricate, so even with Tony's 3D printing technology, it's going to be tomorrow afternoon before they're done." 

"We test it day after tomorrow," he repeated. They've already been over this. If the test is a success, they won't waste any time. In three days, four at the outside, they're going to be starting what Scott likes to call the time heist. 

No telling how long it'll take for them to get the stones, but if everything goes according to plan, it'll only be a few minutes, here in this universe. Just long enough to be sure that even with a margin of error, they won't overlap themselves. 

And then... however long it takes for them to figure out how to use them. To build a glove like the one Thanos apparently had, and to undo what he did to the universe. 

Being conservative, that means that if this is going to work--and Clint's reluctant to think more than "if," because hope is terrifying--Clint will have his family back this time next week. 

Clint wants that. He wants it more than he wants anything in his life. He wants it enough that he'd be happily willing to die for it. And when they're back, it's going to take a crowbar to pry him away from them for a good long while. 

But he wants something else, too, and this seems like the best time to try for it. 

"So," he says, aware that Rhodey's looking at him curiously, "does that mean you're not going back to the lab tonight?"

"No reason to," Rhodey says. "Tony's in there being obsessive and arguing with Rocket, because that's what he does. The being obsessive part, I mean. Arguing with Rocket is new." He finishes putting his laundry away and comes to sit on his bed, facing Clint.

"Not surprising, though," Clint says. It's getting easier to talk to people. Easier to at least pretend to be the Clint Barton they used to know. Maybe even easier to _be_ that guy again. 

"No," Rhodey says, shaking his head and smiling. "Really not surprising." 

"I was thinking," Clint says. 

"Want to share?"

"I want--" Clint breaks off, shaking his head. "Remember Chicago?"

"Kind of hard to forget," Rhodey says. "Windy city, disturbing pizza." 

Clint snorted. "Not what I meant." 

"I know," he says. "And yes, I remember." 

"You didn't seem all that surprised." He looks Rhodey straight in the eye. Just because this is awkward, that doesn't mean he's embarrassed by it. He's just not great with words. More of a man of action. He can hear Laura's voice in the back of his mind, teasing him about how cheesy his pickup lines were. She'd be okay with this, if she know. 

She'll be okay with this, when she knows, Clint thinks, and realizes that he actually does (mostly) believe they're going to be back soon. 

"I was," he admits. "That didn't seem like the kind of thing you were in town to do."

"It wasn't, but I wasn't planning for you to show up. But I mean, in general."

Rhodey's voice is soft. "No. Not really. We've been dancing around this for a while, but--" He shrugs. "There've always been reasons it's a bad idea." 

Clint thinks back. There always have been, usually involving Clint's state of mind. Just once, he'd like to be around Rhodey when he's not broken in some way, so they can see what happens. 

But it's not that likely, given the number of times Clint's been a fucking wreck since they've met. 

So maybe they can see what happens anyway. "I'm a big fan of bad ideas," he suggests, and Rhodey laughs. 

"Jesus. I've been conditioned to find 'is a fan of bad ideas' a likable trait. Tony Stark has so much to answer for." 

" _Please_ tell me," Clint says, getting up from the chair, "that you've never had sex with Tony Stark." 

The face Rhodey makes is enough of an answer, but he also says, "I love Tony like the brother my mom and dad failed to give me, but the only way I'd ever sleep with him is with a literal gun to my literal head." 

Clint laughs, just a little. Being back here has unlocked parts of him he thought were gone forever, and being able to laugh is one of them. "That's the right answer." He's standing over Rhodey now, and he leans down to kiss him. 

He's not surprised that Rhodey kisses back. He _is_ surprised when Rhodey grabs his shirt and pulls him down on to the bed. Rhodey's lying back now, looking up at Clint, who's found himself straddling Rhodey's thighs. The metal of Rhodey's braces digs into his legs a little, but Clint decides he doesn't care, not when Rhodey's clutching at his arms and kissing him like he's wanted to do this for over a decade. 

Like he knows Clint's wanted him to do this for over a decade. 

There's a question Clint doesn't want to ask--doesn't want to insult or hurt Rhodey by asking it--but it's kind of important, so after a few more kisses, he says, "So, uh, if we're going to do this, I guess I need to know, what can--I mean, can you..." 

Rhodey mercifully helps him out. "It works," he says. "Not as well as it did before I got hurt, but there's still a lot I can do." Then he pauses. "Except for the part where I'm going to need to take the braces off to get undressed, and unless I put them back on, I'm not very mobile." 

Clint smirks down at him. "Good thing I don't mind doing all the work. You okay with lying back and looking good?" 

That gets a laugh out of Rhodey. "Lying back, I can handle." 

Clint bends down to kiss him again. "Looking good, you can also handle, trust me." 

The braces are designed in a way to make things as easy for Rhodey as possible. Clint moves off him, and Rhodey squirms around until he's angled the right way on the bed. He can get the braces off from there, and there's a hook on the headboard that he hangs them off of. "I can put them back on from here, too," he says. "The tricky part, until I got used to it, was sitting up and lying down." 

"Tony did a good job with them," Clint says. 

"These are version..." Rhodey pauses, his lips moving a little as he apparently runs through the list in his head. "Thirty-one. He keeps upgrading them." 

Tony feels guilty, Clint thinks, and maybe he should. But then again, he'd probably keep working on them even if he'd had nothing to do with it, because Rhodey's his friend and Tony's never happy with a thing if he can think of a way to upgrade it. 

"Want some help with your pants?" Clint offers. "I mean, I'm sure you can do it, but since I'm here and have a vested interest in getting you naked..." 

"Yeah," Rhodey says. "It's a pain in the ass, so yes, I'll take the help. It'll be faster." 

Getting Rhodey's pants down is harder than undressing a cooperative partner who can move their legs, but easier than undressing an angry and protesting toddler, so Clint's perfectly capable. 

There's a scar on Rhodey's hip that curves around toward his back, another on the opposite thigh, and even though he knows Rhodey probably can't feel it at all, he trails a finger along the first one, plants a kiss on the second one. When he looks up at Rhodey, he's smiling, so at least Clint hasn't done something stupid. 

God, it's been so long since he touched anyone. Not just like this; that goes without saying, but he's also barely touched anyone except to kill them, in five long years. He may need that more than he needs the sex. 

Rhodey's cock is still lying soft in its patch of tight dark curls, and Clint's not sure if that means he's not into this, or if it's because... look, if Clint had realized he was going to make a move, he might have spent some time Googling "sex with a paralyzed man" even if he suspects that would have led him to some really sketchy porn. 

Clint himself is half-hard in his jeans already, his body reminding him that he's wanted this for a stupidly long time now, and he's about to get it, but he's not sure what to do about Rhodey.

"So," Rhodey says, conversationally, "it turns out that spinal injuries like mine make it really difficult to get hard from things like watching porn or thinking about the hot guy in bed with me. Which is really unfair--about forty years ago, I'd have killed for the ability to not get a hard-on from just seeing someone hot." 

He chuckles, and Clint manages a smile back. If Rhodey can make jokes about this, then Clint's probably not fucking things up by being unsure of how this is going to work. 

"But," he goes on, "direct stimulation still works." He winks at Clint. "He said, in an extremely subtle hint," he adds, and Clint snorts. 

"Yeah, very subtle," he says, but that's okay, that's fine, that's information he can use. He wraps his hand around Rhodey's cock and starts to stroke it. It takes a little while, but Rhodey does start to respond, and Clint feels absurdly proud of it. 

"There you go," Rhodey says. "That's good, Clint, keep going."

"You can feel it?" 

"Yeah. It's not as intense as it was before, but it feels good." 

Well, if it's not as intense as it used to be, Clint's just going to have to try that much harder, isn't he? 

He feels smug as hell when Rhodey groans with pleasure.

"Come down here and kiss me," Rhodey says, and Clint does, while trying out the twist of his wrist that he always likes when his hand's on his own cock. 

Rhodey kisses back, hard and hungry, and it's not until they finally break apart that Clint remembers he has a question. "How do you want to do this?" Clint just wants; he's not picky. Whatever's going to work best for Rhodey is going to work just fine for him. 

Rhodey reaches up and swipes his thumb over Clint's bottom lip. Clint captures it between his lips, sucks on it, tongue swiping over the pad. 

"Well, that question just got even easier to answer," Rhodey says. "Getting your mouth on me has suddenly become one of my top priorities." 

Clint smirks at him, letting Rhodey's thumb pop wetly out of his mouth. "That's definitely a thing we can do," he says. 

"Oh, good." 

Rhodey kisses him one more time, then Clint slides back down the bed. "Can I move your legs? Is that okay?" 

"Yeah, that's fine," Rhodey says. "I'll tell you if it's a problem." 

Clint doesn't want to do much, just nudges them apart so that there's room for him between Rhodey's thighs. 

Patience, he reminds himself; with the lack of stimulation, Rhodey's cock has started going soft again. He's going to have to look at this as a process. He's not even sure if he can make Rhodey come, but he lets himself trust Rhodey: he wants this, he must have at least a reasonable expectation that he's going to enjoy it. 

Clint hasn't done this in a long time, anyway, so it's not like he'd want to test out his deep-throating skills. 

God, he hasn't done this in far too long, he should have been doing this with Rhodey for years; he's almost overwhelmed with the knowledge that he's allowed to smooth his hands over Rhodey's skin, to breathe in the heady scent of another man--this particular man, the man Clint's been trying to ignore his desire for since the day he met him, not very successfully. 

He should have said something the day he met Rhodey, god, they could have been doing this for years--and he's told himself before why it's a good idea that they haven't, but all those reasons don't mean much, when this feels so damn right. 

Wherever Laura is, he's pretty sure she's laughing at him, and the thought of her, for once, doesn't even hurt. _Yeah, honey, you married an idiot, you knew that all along._

His jaw starts to ache after a bit, so he switches to stroking Rhodey with his hand while he gives it a break. "Tell me when you're getting close," he tells Rhodey. "I want to finish you off with my mouth." 

His own cock throbs almost painfully; he presses the heel of his other hand against it. He needs to cool off a little, or he's going to come about two seconds after Rhodey touches him. 

God, he wants Rhodey to touch him. 

Rhodey's been--not quiet, there've been plenty of gasps and moans to encourage Clint, but he hasn't been talking. Clint's okay with that. He likes a little dirty talk, but as long as it's obvious Rhodey's having a good time, he doesn't need it. But that means when he does speak up, it gets Clint's attention right away. "Getting there," he says. "God, Clint, please." 

He keeps his hand wrapped around Rhodey's cock, but swallows him down again, working his tongue against him as he sucks, and sucks, and then is rewarded by a deep groan from Rhodey and a hot rush of fluid on his tongue. 

Clint swallows, refusing to let himself gag--he likes sucking cock, and he even likes the intimacy of swallowing, but the taste isn't one of his favorite things--and then pulls off Rhodey's cock with a wet sound. 

He grins up at Rhodey, and for a minute, he just feels good. Smug and satisfied and happy to be here, like this, with this man. 

It's only a little while before the rest of reality crashes back in around him, but it's still there, a tiny bubble of _good things_ in the middle of everything that's terrible. 

The bubble swells a little when Rhodey grins back at him, just as smugly. 

"Come back up here," Rhodey says. "I'm really looking forward to returning the favor." 

Clint kisses Rhodey again, hard, letting Rhodey taste himself in Clint's mouth, before moving up on the bed. It takes a few tries to get into the right position, but then he guides his cock to Rhodey's mouth, rubbing the head over his lips before Rhodey opens his mouth and takes him in. 

"I'm not going to last long," he warns Rhodey. "I enjoyed what I did to you way too much." 

Rhodey pulls back just long enough to give him a smug grin, and Clint smiles. Everything has been so damn difficult for so damn long--even existing has been difficult--but this is easy. 

So easy to just give himself over to the heat of Rhodey's mouth and the way Rhodey is making him feel, until he's gasping out a warning: "Gonna come, God..." 

Rhodey doesn't back off, doesn't even slow down, and it's only a few more seconds before Clint is shuddering, biting his lip to keep from yelling (he doesn't know how soundproof these rooms are, and this is nobody's business but theirs) when he comes. 

There's plenty of room on Rhodey's bed for another person, so Clint collapses next to him, sweaty and panting. If his arm falls across Rhodey's chest when he does, well, he's just too tired to move it, if anyone asks. 

"You can stay for a while," Rhodey says, and Clint agrees, thinking they'll get some rest and then maybe see about round two. 

When he wakes up, the room is dark, and Rhodey is putting his braces on. "Got a text from Tony," he says. "The components are ready. Time to get to work."

Clint almost asks Rhodey if they can see each other later, if they can talk later, but he doesn't. 

There'll be time, Clint thinks, but of course there isn't.

****

Clint goes home right after Tony's funeral. 

Clint went home right after the battle, and came back for the funeral, and he and Rhodey have barely exchanged ten words in all that time. 

A lot has changed in just a couple of days. 

Clint's wife and kids are back, and Rhodey knew that was what they were trying to do. Rhodey is one hundred percent in favor of Clint getting his family back, because the look in Clint's eyes when his phone buzzed, just before everything went to hell, was the best thing that ever broke Rhodey's heart. 

He's not Rhodey's, and that's okay. But they've both lost people they loved--these last few years, Natasha became one of Rhodey's best friends, too, and he lost her as well as Tony--and he'd thought, maybe, they could be there for one another. 

Clint was his friend before that night in the compound, and Rhodey needs friends right now. Friends he doesn't feel like he has to be strong in front of, because he's short on them these days. Pepper and Morgan are grieving even more deeply than he is. Sam's struggling with the shield Steve passed on to him. 

He and Clint--and Laura, because she's his friend too, even if he can't stop feeling guilty about what he did with her husband while she was gone--could just mourn together. 

But Clint left as soon as the funeral was over, taking Wanda with him, because she's as lost as the rest of them. 

He has Clint's number, from before. He could call. 

But he's probably not going to, because maybe Clint's right, and they need to put some distance between them, after what happened. Clint can reconnect with his family, they can do their grieving separately. 

Maybe--maybe--they'll put the team, or what's left of it, back together. He and Clint will work together, and maybe they'll figure out a way to be friends, and maybe Rhodey will stop feeling guilty. 

Not for what they did, not really. Laura was gone, had been gone for five years, and they didn't really know that they'd be able to get her back. It wasn't wrong. Clint was, for all intents and purposes, a widower at the time. 

But for wishing they could do it again, for wanting Clint to belong to him, for wanting to belong to Clint in a way he knows he never has. 

And for wishing they'd done it earlier, when Rhodey could have made it better for Clint. Not that it had been bad; he didn't think Clint had any complaints, and neither did he. But it could have been better. They could have been spectacular. 

But back when Rhodey was capable of "spectacular," Laura had been alive and well and happily married to Clint, and Rhodey doesn't like thinking of himself as the kind of man who'd sleep with someone else's husband. 

But give him five minutes and a vial of Pym particles, and he'd go back ten years and tell his younger self to make a move, _now_ , before he regrets it. So maybe he is that kind of man, after all. 

Rhodey doesn't like himself much, these days, and his best friends are dead. 

So when Pepper approaches him with a folder full of plans--for rebuilding the compound, for funding the Avengers if Rhodey will take charge, for the brand-new Anthony Stark Memorial Foundation's plans for helping people displaced by what the media are now calling "the blip"--he takes one look at how much work she's asking him to do, how little time he's going to have to think, and dives right in.

****


	5. Ever After

****

"You're going to go back," Laura says after she turns out the light.

They do most of their talking like this these days: in bed, with the lights out, where Clint can pretend he's pouring out all of his grief and guilt into the darkness, and he doesn't have to see Laura's face when he cries, or when he confesses everything he did without her. 

She doesn't hate him for any of it. He doesn't really know why, but he's grateful.

"I haven't decided," he lies. He could stay here. Even though he hired someone to look after the property when he first left--back when he thought there was a chance they could fix things, before Nat left the message telling him they'd killed the bastard responsible and it hadn't done any good--and they'd been able to move back in without a problem, there's a lot to do around here. 

Plus, Clint isn't comfortable yet with letting the kids out of his sight for long. Putting them on the bus to school is hard enough. He's always afraid they'll vanish the moment he turns his back. 

He wants to stay here. 

But he wants more than that. Rhodey is trying to put the Avengers back together--some team, without Cap, without Tony, without Thor, with Hulk's right arm a withered mess, without _Natasha_. Of the original team, Clint's the only one left alive, on Earth, and in one piece, and he's only in one piece if you don't look past the surface. 

But Wanda's in, and Sam, and Scott and his girlfriend, and Danvers when she's on Earth. Bruce, too, though he's still working out one-handed smashing, and he says he'd rather be in the lab. Some of the others, too, people Clint barely knows. 

Spider-Man's holding out for now, but he's a kid, and Clint thinks that's for the best. Let him grow up, let him get his head together, because he's only a little older than Cooper and he's been through too much shit already. 

So maybe Rhodey will make it work, and maybe Clint wants to be there. It's part wanting to make up for what he did during those terrible years, and it's part wanting to carry on what Natasha was doing, and it's part just that he always loved it. 

And it's part that it's Rhodey asking, and that's the part that's holding him back. 

Laura's way too damn smart for him, and it's not like he didn't tell her what they'd done (it's not like she would have minded even if she'd been waiting at home, he knows that, but for some reason, it feels like he'd let her go, even for those couple of hours in Rhodey's bed, and that eats away at him), so she says, "If it was anyone else asking, you'd have said yes already." 

"Why did I marry someone smarter than me?"

"Because you like smart people," she says. "And you like him. And you could call him." She rolls over onto her side and rests her head on his chest, her breath ruffling his chest hair. It tickles. It's kind of annoying. It's proof she's real, because a dream wouldn't do that. "I understand why you haven't yet. We needed to spend some time together as a family. But that doesn't mean you can't do it now."

"And say what?" He shrugs a little, with just one shoulder so he doesn't disturb her. "The time to ask him if he's okay with polyamory was--" He's not sure when it was. Back in the early days, during one of Rhodey's visits to the tower? During his house arrest? The night they'd spent together? "--anyway, it's past." 

"Then you should have listened to me years ago," she says, and he can feel her lips curving into a smile against his skin. "But talk to him, anyway. He's your friend. He's _our_ friend. I miss him." 

He considers for a moment. "I can do that," he says. But that's not what he wants to do. He wants there to be a place for him in Rhodey's bed, in his heart, in his life. 

He doesn't deserve that much happiness--he doesn't even deserve to have Laura and the kids back--but he wants it, so much. 

"And I hate it when you're right," he grumbles, reaching for his phone, while Laura laughs.

****

Rhodey's trying hard not to have any expectations.

Clint texted him late last night--late enough that he didn't even see it until morning, when it had been followed up with, " _Shit. Ignore this if you want. Not the part about the team, I'm definitely all in, but. The rest. If you want._ " 

He didn't want to ignore it. 

He'd been happy enough with the first text. Clint had been waffling about joining the re-formed Avengers, and Rhodey needed him on the team. Not just for the optics--one of the original team, front and center in the new version--though that's important. 

Rhodey wants Clint there. Wants Clint on his side. Wants a chance to be Clint's teammate and friend, even though it has to stop there. 

Except that Clint sent more messages: _You & I need to talk. Well, you & I & Laura. We should've talked YEARS ago. Come out to the farm? Today? Tomorrow? Whatever day Tuesday is._

_Please._

There's hope welling up in Rhodey's chest; he doesn't really know what Clint wants to say, and it's probably something like, "I think we should put what happened behind us and try to stay friends."

He's trying not to expect anything as he drives out to the farm, but he can't quite kill that hope. 

Laura answers the door, manhandling Nate into a coat at the same time. "Clint and I decided that the two of you should talk first," she says, "so Nate and I are going into town. There's story time at the library today, and then we're going to get cocoa at the coffee shop. _If_ he lets me put his coat on," she adds, frowning down at the squirming little boy. 

"I want to stay with Rhodey," Nate says. Rhodey's surprised, for a minute, that Nate remembers him, after all this time, but then, it hasn't been so long for him, has it? A few months, not five years. 

"Maybe he'll still be here when we get back," she says, zipping the coat and jamming a knitted hat on his head. "Go wait by the car." Nate races out the door and down the steps, and Laura smiles at Rhodey. "There's one thing I have to tell you before you go in there. Everything Clint's about to say? It's true, and I'm completely okay with it. I like you, and you make my husband happy." 

Rhodey's still standing there, stunned, when she catches him in a tight hug. "Thank you for trying to take care of him when I couldn't," she says in his ear. "It's not your fault he wouldn't let you. He's a stubborn idiot." 

Then she's gone, hurrying after Nate, and Clint's standing in the doorway that leads into the dining room, holding on to either side of the door frame like he's afraid he's going to fall. 

Rhodey's knees can't actually feel weak any more, but that's the general cliché, and he understands the feeling. 

He takes off his jacket, hangs it on an empty hook, and only then lets himself move toward Clint. "You said you wanted to talk?" 

"Yeah," Clint says, and now that Rhodey's closer and the light isn't in his eyes, he can see that Clint's smiling, though he still looks shaky. "I mean, no, I really don't want to talk, but we need to, because I want--" He stops himself suddenly. "Ah, fuck it," he says, and comes forward to meet Rhodey, his arms going around Rhodey as he kisses him. 

Rhodey kisses him back, but then steps away. "No more of that until you've told me, loud and clear, why Laura's not going to come back here and punch us both for that." 

Not that he doesn't know, not after what Laura said. He shakes his head. "And you couldn't have told me any of this before?"

"No," Clint said. "I mean, I should have. I just... couldn't. Because--you might have noticed I'm kind of a dumbass, sometimes."

"All the time," Rhodey said, "but that's my type." 

He wants to kiss Clint again, but instead, he leads the way back to the couch, because the two of them have a lot of talking to do.

****

When Laura and Nate get back home, Rhodey's helping Clint heat up tomato soup and make grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch.

"Rhodey wants to show me what they've done with the new compound so far," Clint says, as he dishes up soup and sprinkles a few goldfish crackers in Nate's bowl. "I thought I'd go with him when he leaves this afternoon. It'll be too late to come back tonight, but I can be home tomorrow." 

Laura grins at both of them. "There's a lot to look at, isn't there? Maybe come back on Thursday instead." Then she turns to Rhodey, and Clint sees her choosing her words carefully so that Nate doesn't realize there's anything going on. 

Not that Nate notices anything but his chocolate milk, at the moment. 

"This weekend," she says carefully, "if you want to, we'd love to have you come and spend a few days with us. We have a spare bedroom downstairs, if that'd be more convenient for you."

It's more convenient for Clint, anyway, because all the kids are upstairs at night. Not that Clint is considering sleeping with Rhodey in the house where his kids live, at least not until things are more settled and they tell the kids about him and Rhodey. But for the future. 

Rhodey looks at Nate, and then at Laura, and finally at Clint. "I've missed all of you," he says. "I wouldn't mind visiting. And I'm sorry that I'm going to be dragging your husband off on Avengers business so much for a while." 

"Don't be," Laura says. "I can share him with the Avengers. But I'm serious, we'd love to have you visit like you used to." 

_Say yes_ , Clint hopes, because if this works out, if it looks like it's going to last, he wants the kids to be comfortable around Rhodey before he tells them.

He's made a lot of mistakes in his life, and several of them have involved Rhodey, but he's thinking that maybe he's going to get a chance to put at least a few of them right.

****

**Author's Note:**

> Title is adapted from Fall Out Boy's "The Kids Aren't Alright"
> 
> You can find me on [Dreamwidth](http://mireille719.dreamwidth.org).


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